Starlighted
by Xendell
Summary: Caithe struggles to let go of her lost love, and goes to find her - determined to end it for good this time. However some forces are too strong to resist, and old aches become open wounds once more when faced with their origins. Caithe and Faolain short, set after Twilight Arbor.


A/N: This is for all you lovers who were sad at the end of From Dawn To Dusk. I cannot bring Caithe and Faolain back together, but I can give them time. Enjoy, and please let me know if you liked it. :)

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A soft rustle, nothing more. Several blissfully unaware guards she had left behind her already, including those stationed at her own home. Caithe looked around carefully. She was near the centre of the Nightmare Court camp, that had grown so big, she might have called it a town. Houses and entire streets had been built, illuminating the environment in pale purple light. The sun had started setting and the Nightmare Courtiers began coming out of hiding, filling up the streets and increasing her chances of getting caught.

She nimbly climbed a nearby, curled-over tree -it was dead, she noted- and after making certain she was hidden well in the shadows of the leaves, she dropped her cloaking magic. For a second she breathed deeply, trying to gather her thoughts. She could overlook the town from here.

It was bigger than Twilight Arbor, yet she knew exactly where she could find her target. In the very centre of the camp, one house rose above the others, several stories high. It swirled upwards like a twirling vine, only it was massive and could easily have housed several dozens of Sylvari. It was the town's main hall, as well as the army base, and the Grand Duchess' lair. She was sure to be there.

Caithe swallowed, and immediately regretted it, looking down in panic, but nobody had heard her. For a moment, she considered turning back, to stop betraying the Wardens' trust in her, betraying everyone's trust in her, to stop this madness. She was a moth to a flame and she despised it, loathed herself for giving in to temptation time and time again. She would regret her actions either way, whether she turned back or not. However, this time would be different. In complete silence, Caithe conjured up her cloaking magic again and vanished. She was close, so very close.

It had not been difficult finding Faolain's residence. The lower levels were barracks, the levels above those had been the rooms for the Knights, and above those had been the suites for Counts and Countesses. Faolain had made sure the hierarchy was made clear at all times. One floor up was something that looked like a main hall, or a ballroom. It was spacious, with mosaic floors running down all the way to the end of the hall, where a delicate throne stood. It had been skillfully grown out of massive orchids and other flowers, woven beautifully into what looked more like a bell shaped lounge chair than a traditional throne. It had been placed perfectly under the windows, so that both sun and starlight illuminated it and gave it a mystic glow. Caithe scoffed. If anything, she despised the delusions of grandeur Faolain had developed even more than her own weaknesses. Behind the throne she found a spiral stairway, and she carefully ascended. _Silently, now,_ she told herself. _This is where you need to be careful._

And so Caithe found herself hiding on a narrow ledge near the ceiling, trying to breathe shallowly and be as silent as she could. She had climbed the stairs and immediately found her way up over a chest and a large wooden cupboard. It was a round room, relatively small compared to all the others in this building, the only light coming from double doors with large windows leading to a small, delicate balcony. There were only a few pieces of furniture in the room: a small desk facing the balcony, so the light shone on the surface, a rather large, but elegant bed, and the heavy cupboard Caithe had used to climb on. However, spread through the room were decorated bags, baskets and chests filled with seemingly random items. Caithe had expected Faolain to collect jewelry, or any other status symbol, but these were none of the sort. They were tools, for daily use, and all of the items had clearly been used. There was worn rope and a broken blade of a once beautiful sword, empty perfume vials and in one basket what seemed to be the bloodied remains of a Seraph's armor. On the desk an old silver mirror stood, prominently on display.

Caithe felt a smile grow on her face. Despite everything, in this room she recognized something of what Faolain had been, so many years ago. The room was evidence of that childish innocence, that boundless curiosity, and the same boldness that had made her remarkable then. A sudden creak shook her from her thoughts as the double doors opened and Faolain entered from the balcony, stretching lazily in the warm summer air. Her dress rustled around her as she walked, and she touched some of her belongings idly, as if out of habit, then she stopped and turned. Caithe held her breath. Seeing her like this was more than worth coming out here. No matter how much she tried to tell herself that she didn't care anymore, that their love had died, when she heard those soft footsteps she could imagine the two of them to be at home, in the Grove, and when Faolain had just woken up, Caithe would listen to her walking quietly around the room.

Caithe shook her head. She couldn't let these thoughts of times long gone blur her vision. This time, she would not be the moth, she would be the flame - the flame that burned the moth. Her hand closed around the hilt of her dagger, of which she had coated the blade in poison. Her eyes followed the woman she had once called her love. Faolain was getting ready for bed, first slowly taking off her bodice and placing it over the edge of the bed, then she stepped out of her skirts, leaving them in a heap on the floor, long legs finally free to move. Caithe wanted to clamp her eyes shut, to not have to look at the nimble body moving so seductively mere steps away from her. Instead, she clenched her fingers around her blade until her knuckles shone white, reassuring herself that soon, she would never have to look at it again. That she'd nevermore be able to.

Faolain had moved to sit at the desk, staring out onto the balcony through the doors she'd left open. When she didn't move for a while, Caithe swallowed her pride and put away her feelings. Her blade was heavy, but sturdy in her hand. She could do this. She could _end_ this.

Soundlessly, like a cat, she dropped from her ledge to the middle of the room. Faolain's unprotected back was only a few steps away from her now. Thoughts and memories and images raced through Caithe's mind, and yet the only thing she really saw were those bare shoulders, that long neck so exposed, so vulnerable. She breathed deeply, and raised her blade -

Blazing amber eyes stared at her. Caithe felt her body stiffening in shock and paralysis as that gaze was focused directly on her. It took her a second to realize Faolain had never even turned - those piercing eyes were reflected in the silver surface of the mirror on the desk.

Panic overtook Caithe and she gasped, trying to scramble back, dropping her invisibility in the process, but there were roots crawling around her feet and legs, binding her. Faolain gracefully stood up and turned around, catching Caithe's panicked look and holding it, a satisfied smile on her face.

'How?!' Caithe gasped out in terror, still tugging at her feet in vain. The vines grew tighter with each second. 'How did you know?!' Faolain just smiled at her, moving close and stroking Caithe's cheek. Vines tangled around Caithe's wrists and made her drop the deadly blade, rendering her harmless.

'How nice of you to come visit me, my love,' Faolain whispered, her voice laden heavily with affection, but there was a stinging undertone of sarcasm that was very apparent. 'I could ask you how you are doing, but, ah,' she chuckled, 'it seems fairly obvious to me.' Caithe snarled at her as she tenderly pressed their foreheads together, completely ignoring Caithe's objections.

'Why don't you humor me, my love, and ask me how I've been?' She whispered.

'I'm not here for your idle chitchat, Faolain.' Caithe hissed back. Faolain flashed her a warning glance, anger burning for a moment behind her calm exterior, but then she grinned again and pressed herself closer. She grabbed Caithe's hand and placed it on her hip, then slowly moved it upwards, over her side and then her breast, up to the nape of her neck. Caithe felt her breath hitch as Faolain sighed contentedly.

'Is _that_ what you are here for, then?' she asked in a low voice. Caithe wanted to sputter all sorts of indignant responses, but Faolain cut her off with a soft kiss.

'Do not speak, Caithe. I already know what you want most.' She was silent for a moment, in which they just looked at eachother. 'You want these responsibilities taken away from you. These dreaded burdens off your shoulders. The blood off your hands. You wish to be pure again, to be innocent. To not be so awfully tempted by all things in darkness.'

'By you,' Caithe whispered, sighing. Faolain was close, arms comfortably around Caithe's neck, and she chuckled at Caithe's response.

'Shall I take them away from you, then? These burdensome decisions?' Her hand ran up Caithe's stomach, fingertips sneaking inbetween the layers of armor and touching her bare skin. Caithe could feel the shivers run up her spine. 'Shall I make you mine once more?'

Caithe's throat ran dry. Her eyes flicked between Faolain's face and her poisoned blade on the ground. Then she gritted her teeth and hissed at Faolain in anger, tugging at the restraints around her arms.

'Don't think you have any power over me. Those times are long gone,' Caithe said, patience running thin. With each second of Faolain's warm body pressed against her, she could feel her determination slipping away. Faolain's chuckle rumbled against her chest.

'Long gone? Like your opportunity to assassinate me?' Faolain stepped back, whispering her words in a dangerously low voice. She kneeled and picked up the blade by the sharp, making Caithe jerk in shock and cry out in a broken voice.

'Faolain, it's poisoned!' She tried to reach out through her restraints, then realized what she was doing and pulled back her hands. The other simply stared at her, but her smile had vanished from her face. She dangled the blade in front of her face, inspecting it, and then took the hilt with her other hand and weighed the dagger in her hand.

'How many times will you break my heart before you kill it, my love?' she whispered, more to herself than Caithe. Then she pointed the blade at her love's chest and walked towards her, Caithe instinctively tried to step back and fell down when there were no roots binding her. She crawled backwards until her back hit the bed and she was pinned. Caithe breathed deeply, not sure if she was afraid the tables had been turned, or relieved that the tables were finally turning. The sharp tip of the blade pressed against Caithe's neck, not yet breaking the skin. She looked up at the majestic woman before her, using her own blade against her, her dark skin glowing. The fear had gone - Caithe let her eyes run up and down the body she knew every inch of, of which she had counted the spots time and time again, ran nonsense patterns over with her fingertips. She knew where the skin was rough, and where it was smooth, where it was warm, she knew the places that would make Faolain snarl and those that could make her breath hitch. She found Faolain's gaze, and smiled.

Faolain had been looking at her with an utterly cold expression, but now seemed confused. Her eyes widened when Caithe calmly pushed the blade aside and stood up, pulling Faolain close and resting her forehead in the crook of her neck. Faolain's hands trembled behind Caithe's back, the blade still pointed at Caithe.

'Will you drop the blade, Faolain? Yield to me just this once, for all the times I have surrendered to you?' Caithe whispered softly against her neck. It was silent, save for the sound of their breathing. After a moment's hesitation, Faolain slowly let the blade slip from her fingers and drop to the ground. 'You love me entirely too much,' Caithe concluded, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Faolain felt familiar hands smoothly travel up her sides, knead her shoulder blades and then drop down again to the small of her back. When Caithe's fingers closed around her hips, pulled her close and her breath played over her skin, Faolain shivered. She grasped Caithe's hair with both hands and roughly tugged her head back to make their eyes meet. Caithe smiled at her, which made Faolain growl in frustration.

'Tell me you love me back, then,' she whispered against Caithe's lips, trying to keep her nails from digging into Caithe's scalp. Blue eyes stared into her own.

'Perhaps I did, once,' Caithe answered tentatively, before trying to close the distance between them. Faolain pulled back ever so slightly, placing one finger on Caithe's lips, stopping her. She stepped back, Caithe following her every move, staying close. As in a dance, they slowly and gracefully swirled around each other, so very experienced in this game of push and pull. If one stepped back, the other pushed forward, keeping the distance between their bodies ever close, their fingertips always touching. Then Faolain turned, elegantly laying Caithe's arms around her waist, pressing her back against Caithe's chest. She rested her cheek against Caithe, who sighed. Caithe brought up her right hand and caressed Faolain's collarbone.

'You always do this, Faolain,' she said, 'Lure me in, keep me close, but never quite give me what I want.' It was silent for a moment, until Caithe heard Faolain chuckle under her breath.

'Not until you admit to me that you want it,' she said, turning to face Caithe again and snapping her fingers. Immediately the binding roots shot from the ground and ceiling and found their way around Caithe's limbs again. Faolain smirked as she pressed herself up against her love again, slowly working down to remove her armor. Caithe moved her head to the side, breathing heavily. It would be endlessly easy to give in, to surrender as she always did in the end, to drown in the cotton candy darkness that Faolain provided. A paradise in which she forgot who she was, whom she was supposed to be, who was waiting for her at home. Where no dragons could disturb her, where bonds were forged instead of shattered.

Faolain slowly kissed down Caithe's trembling body, hands roaming. Caithe made an involuntary sound, tugging at her restraints. She despised herself for being so susceptible to Faolain's touches, for being so vulnerable to something so needlessly physical, something so temporary. Faolain's love would last a second whereas Caithe's resentment and guilt would last a lifetime.

'How many others have touched you like this, my love?' Faolain asked against Caithe's hipbone, having sunk to her knees, her hands on Caithe's thighs. Her nails pinched Caithe's skin when she didn't answer immediately.

'How many, Caithe?' Faolain asked again, her voice a little deeper, a little more dangerous now. Caithe groaned. How many had she tried to replace Faolain with? How many futile nights had she spent trying to forget the one person she could only keep thinking about? She did not even remember their faces, let alone their names - they had meant nothing to her. Faolain rose, dragging her nails up Caithe's body as she did. Caithe gritted her teeth in pain as the red welts formed, staring into Faolain's furious eyes.

'Then what about you?' she asked. Faolain snarled, clawing into Caithe's shoulders.

'You think I would give myself up for anyone less than you?' She hissed. 'There is no one who could hold a candle to you, to what you mean to me.' Faolain relaxed her hands and then her gaze turned loving again, and she softly stroked Caithe's cheek. Caithe felt a smirk grow on her face.

'You must be quite desperate by now, then.'

Faolain's eyes narrowed, and she gave Caithe an arrogant look. Caithe recognized the face of the Duchess, the face she used to deal with her Courtiers. Faolain distanced herself. They looked at each other for a moment, calculating, planning their next move. Then Faolain _laughed_, out loud, ringing like a bell, and she pressed one finger against Caithe's chest. The roots began crawling again and tugged Caithe back, following where Faolain pushed her. Then the backs of Caithe's knees hit the bed and she fell into the soft, dark sheets. Faolain nimbly climbed on top of her, wrapping her arms around Caithe's neck and arching her back to press herself onto her, resting her hips between Caithe's legs.

'It's time for you to stop talking, my love. I have other plans for you.' Faolain breathed huskily into Caithe's ear as she pressed her hands on Caithe's arms and led them up to her wrists. Then she held her down with both hands, cutting off Caithe's shocked yelps with asphyxiating kisses.

Caithe felt her body relax as the kisses grew tender, and soon she found her hands were on Faolains' back, as she had not even noticed Faolain's grip loosening. She cherished her former lover's sweet poison, the warmth of being with her, that closeness she had missed for so, so long.

_It's all a lie,_ Caithe told herself, in the small part of her mind that could still think clearly, _it's all make-believe. I can pretend to love her when I don't. She pretends not regretting everything that has happened. We pretend to be together. _

Faolain broke the kiss and sat up slightly. She looked at Caithe's face, whose expression had turned sad. Caithe contemplated pushing Faolain back, get some space in between them, but she was sure it would take a lifetime before the Duchess would be this close to her again. She caressed Faolain's face, saw her golden eyes follow her own fingertips as she did, and smiled.

'You are exactly as I remember,' Caithe whispered, sighing. She wasn't sure if this made her happy or if it made her aching heart hurt even more. 'Every inch of you, every spot, every move, every gesture. But,' she stopped, and sat up to take Faolain in her arms. She pressed her forehead against Faolain's neck, embracing her tightly. She could hear Faolain's heart beating in her chest.

'But what?' Faolain asked softly. Somehow, it sounded like she feared what was coming next. Caithe smiled as she massaged her lover's lower back.

'I keep forgetting how warm you are,' Caithe said lovingly. Faolain shot her a surprised look, but then broke into a genuine smile. She bent down, capturing Caithe's face gently in her fingers and kissing her. Caithe slowly lowered herself back down on the bed, pulling Faolain close, never breaking the kiss.

_Then let me refresh your memory over and over, until I am the only thing left on your mind and in your memory, Caithe._

Faolain's soft voice echoed in Caithe's mind for a fraction of a second, just enough for Caithe to hear and realize that this was not her own thought. It was the spark of a sputtering severed connection, reaching out and touching ever so quickly before fading out again. Caithe's heart cried out in torment, please, please let me connect to her once more, please, _please.._

When they broke their kiss to breathe, and opened their eyes, there were tears on both their cheeks.

Faolain whispered Caithe's name, her voice breaking. Caithe held her close, fingers entwined, bodies pressed together.

They did not speak any more. They lay together, their breathing slowly synchronizing with each other. Eventually Faolain's eyes slid closed and she slept peacefully against Caithe's shoulder. Caithe relaxed next to her, just listening to her slow breathing. After what might have been an eternity, but seemed like a few minutes, she could see the first rays of daylight illuminate the horizon. It was time for her to go. The sun called, and soon it would wake up everyone in Grove, and they would find her gone.

She looked at Faolain's sleeping form again. She was so strangely without malice, sleeping like this, she could have been a sapling in her pod had she only worn this expression more often. Caithe smiled at her, and softly pressed one last kiss on her lips.

When Faolain awoke the bed had already grown cold, she was alone once more.


End file.
